


Take me Back (to The Night we Met)

by MrsFlashBrightside



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Universe, Blood, Everything Hurts, Evil Gerard, Fix-It, Good Peter, Grief/Mourning, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt Peter, I'm Sorry, M/M, Peter-centric, Sad, Sad Ending, Time Travel, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 04:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15598005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsFlashBrightside/pseuds/MrsFlashBrightside
Summary: If you want to, if you really want to, not even then, you can change the past. For once you change it, you were never the person that needed to go back and do it.Peter Hale was tired of losing people he loved and just once, after all he had lost, he wanted them back.To hell with laws of physics.





	Take me Back (to The Night we Met)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Teen Wolf world. None of it (except for the crazy plot) belongs to me and the song in italics is "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron.
> 
> That being said, this is my first time venturing into the Teen Wolf Fan Fiction world. Please, be kind to Brazilian girl and I apologize in advance for how sad this one shot ended up being and for any major English mistakes.

_And then I can tell myself_  
_What the hell I'm supposed to do_

  
With the moon high on the sky, Peter took his first breath after his trip. It had been quick and painless as Deaton had promised (of course, he had obeyed his orders, keeping his eyes closed as emerald lights danced behind his shut-tight eyelids). This time he had, in what felt like a lifetime, something to lose if he screwed up and a lot to win if he managed to do things right.

  
A smile flashed in his memories as he landed on solid ground, almost on top of a gangly teenager. Peter knew that night quite well, knew how his wolf was on the edge that day, ready to jump out and tear his black Henley and tight jeans. He had stored in his mind how the Californian breeze was warm, smelling sweeter than it had ever smelled and every dewdrop was attached to his brain with burning intensity. However, this was the first time he was on the other side, coming back to alter the past like he had dreamt of doing so many times.

  
The moment his younger self’s blue eyes landed on his older self, something inside his older body dropped and suddenly he was fighting an immeasurable deal of pain. Deaton had warned him about that, how new memories would imprint themselves onto his brain as if they were always there and how his body would deny its existence, causing a severe migraine before his organs started to vanish to break the paradox he created by being there.

  
“Peter,” He mumbled through the pain in his chest. It felt awkward to address to himself using his own name, but he had no idea of what to do (it was not like there was a pamphlet on what to do once you meet your younger self when you time-travel or one on how to deal with the splitting headache that comes when your mind try to create a new memory influenced by yourself).

  
“What the fuck?” Young Peter raised one of his brows and his eyes bleed gold for a second. He missed those times, when he was still naïve and willing to believe. “Who are you?” He asked showing his fangs and walking slowly towards his older self, obviously not knowing who he was. As he got closer, the pain in his older body grew stronger enough to make the older man fall to his knees and hold his head in his hands. “What the fuck is going on?”

  
“I don’t have much time, now you list,-” Before he had time to finish his throat was filled with fluids and Peter started to coughing, spilling blood all over his dark grey V-Neck much to his despair. Peter was losing his time way too quickly and he could feel pieces of his lungs starting to disappear, causing panic to take over for a brief second.  
What if he didn’t manage to deliver his message? He didn’t think it was going to be that fast, but everything hurt so bad.

  
As his younger self approached him and touched his shoulder, Peter tired to clear his throat to speak again. His younger self looked almost terrified for him. Not of a him. He knew himself well, that was the look of someone who wanted to help and didn’t know exactly what to do. Peter knew very well when he had lost that and he couldn’t let that happen again, he had to force his words out and change his future.

  
“He’s coming tonight,” Peter added through gritted teeth, barely avoiding screaming in pain. “His eyes are beautiful, he’s everything you’ll ever want and you’ll be instantly smitten,” Falling onto his back and having a coughing fit, he managed to look at his nineteen-year-old self, who looked like he had no idea of what he was saying, and continued, “No matter what he says, what he does to you. No matter how much those blue eyes call you, don’t ride along with him.

  
“Listen to me, I know it makes no sense,” A groan escaped his throat the moment he feels his liver vanish. He had to make it through, so he forced himself to breathe slowly with whatever was left of his lungs and after coughing a little more he added, his voice barely a whisper, “You don’t even know who he is, but you’ll meet him. Do not enter that car! Tell Talia about him, she’ll freak out but then she’ll accept him and most important of all, Peter Hale,” As the pain in his body became just a shy away from unbearable, Peter said the words that would trigger the spell that would bring him back to the future, “Stay away from Christopher Argent!”

  
For a second or two, he thought it was it, that he was dead and that the spell didn’t work, but then he was lifted in the air and he only had the mind to close his before everything went black.

  
A smile invading his mind was all it took to bring him back, to reach for his senses and open his eyes.

  
Except everything was foggy and all around him things were weirdly shapeless and white. He tried to move but he was paralyzed, laying on the white floor, but he couldn't feel a thing where his right cheek was certainly touching it. His body felt weightless and Peter started to wonder if that was it felt when you were dead, cause it didn’t feel like peace in heaven nor like eternal damnation in hell.

  
(Peter was pretty sure he wasn’t going to heaven).

  
That was when among shapeless forms he saw the man he had been longing for ever since the night he had just altered. He walked in like everything needed to be scared of him, powerful and in control even in that awful Backstreet Boys white combo of button-up and jeans. His icy-blue eyes felt like an oasis in the desert, his blond short hair starting to show some signs of gray and his tanned skin a splash of color in the monotonous white.

  
Taken by the urge of touching and hold close as they’d done years before, Peter tried to move, but still none of his muscles obeyed him and Chris stopped moving, almost 15 feet away from him, hands in his pockets in a sign of defeat.

  
“Can’t move, can you, Petey?” Chris asked using that tone Peter hated more than everything but he missed Chris so badly he didn’t even care for the ridiculous nickname or the challenging edge of his voice. His Christopher was there with his perfect face and his gorgeous self, all muscles in the right place, his beard was back and it was enough to make all fear inside Peter vanish.

  
Shaking his head with a sad smile spreading on his lips, Chris continued, “You can’t change the past,” Images of a young Peter smiling at a young Chris shone brightly in his mind, showing him he had failed in his plans. “Messing with time has effects and the pack  has to learn it, babe. Once you try to go back and change your past that means you never turned out to be the man who needed to go back. As confusing as that might be, you can’t alter your own past cause once you do, you’ll never be in a position where you have to go back and change it.

  
“Yes, you still got in that car with me,” Peter wanted to scream at Chris that he was wrong, he wouldn’t be there talking to him if Peter hadn’t succeeded, but the way the Hunter stared deep into his eyes told Peter he was right.

  
Memories started to invade his mind as if a gate had been opened and suddenly, there were hands, touches, love, hate, break-ups, reunions, fire that burned slow and fire that consumed everything. His family dying, losing his mind, finding himself amidst a group of teenage betas to whom he had to be a better alpha, his best friend/ex-lover/mate coming back with a kid, his need for revenge settled deep within him, Christopher’s eyes across the Lacrosse’s field and everything was gone.

  
When Derek murdered Kate, he was four hundred feet away, making love to Chris on the filthy ground of the Hale’s preserve.

For three months all they had were stolen moments, sneaking around, skipping towns to walk around hand in hand ‘till Peter had to bite Victoria to save Derek and Scott. After that Allison sort of hated him (he didn’t blame her) and as much as Chris loved him his daughter was his first concern (as Peter’s pack of misfits were his).

  
They broke up once again, but what they felt was stronger than all the obstacles in their way and he found himself stalking Chris. Till one night when they were trying to get rid of the Nogitsune, after Peter nearly lost his life to get an Oni away from Allison, and Chris pulled him in, kissing him in front of the pack.

  
It wasn’t easy, but everyone seemed to think they completed each other and the pack was happy, he was happy, Chris was happy and Allison had started to call him dad, not Peter in that threatening tone of hers. Even his daughter, Malia, was ok with Chris and started to open up to the idea of having a family once again.

  
Everything was magical for two years, before going to hell.

  
“Peter,” Chris’ voice pulled him back from memory lane. The hunter looked at him with his head cocked to the side, his sad smile still on his lips. “I’m still stuck here loving you,” He paused breathing in as his white button-up darkened with a huge bloodstain in the middle of his chest. “And you’re still alive and loving me.”

  
There was a loud bang and suddenly all shapeless white things around them gained form and color as Peter was forced to relive the worst day of his life without being able to move.

  
He was back at that horrendous lacrosse field with Chris’ on his knees fifteen feet away, his button-up now was in a deep green shade but the bloodstain was still there. The full moon hidden by dark clouds in the sky did nothing to him as he watched Chris bleeding to death. Biting him wouldn’t have been useful as the monster who shot him knew with whom he was dealing and laced the bullet that kill the man Peter loved with wolfsbane’s.

  
Gerard still had his rifle in hand as Derek reached from behind and ripped his throat before he could shoot peter too, but at that moment all Peter wanted was to die.

  
“I love you, Peter,” Chris mumbled before falling forward.

 

“PETER!” Stile’s voice is almost as loud as Lydia’s banshee screams. He knows he is back to the present cause he feels his muscles wanting to answer by shoving his hand in Stile’s mouth to prevent him from speaking again for the next life.

For some reason his senses are reduced to almost zero, Peter blames the spell. He can’t even smell the dogs in the other room nor who is in the same room as he is. Hell, he can't barely listen to the three heartbeats there but, if he's being honest to himself, he really needs all the quiet seconds he can get.

  
“He’s alive,” Deaton says sounding as calm as ever.

  
These aren’t the voices he wants to hear. They are off, not warm enough and, judging by the way Stiles is still screaming when Peter doesn’t open his eyes, something had gone terribly bad.

  
“You heard him mumbling, you saw the blood coming out of his mouth,” Stiles continues his rant long enough for Peter to know his heart had stopped two times and if it weren’t for Derek (the third heartbeat in the room), he would have choked on his own blood vomit. No wonder his body feels like trash and his mouth tastes like something died in there.

  
“Maybe Peter wants to,” Derek offers as he gets closer to Peter, who doesn’t dare to open his eyes yet. "You know... die," His nephew is right, though. Peter wants to die. Even though he has a pack to come back to, his mate is definitely gone and it hurts so bad, he doesn't want to move, to go out there and face a world where Chris is not in it. “Allison called. When you were trying to give him the CPR, she said nothing had changed.”

  
All of that was for nothing. The pain is still there, Chris’ absence is still constricting his heart and Peter still hurts the same way it did the day after, when he woke up and Chris wasn’t in their bed. His wolf still whines in pain, begging for the Hunter, but nothing compares to his human side, whose best friend and lover had been taken away by a crazy father who would rather have a dead son than one who was happy with a wolf.

Only now it's a bit worse than before, with the notion there is nothing he can do to bring the man he loved hurting like a knife to his chest.

  
He will feel Chris’ absence every morning after those five seconds of blessing when you wake up and you’re not entirely sure of where you are.

  
He will keep Chris in his heart forever.

 _I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,_  
_Haunted by the ghost of you;_  
_Take me back to the night we met._

**Author's Note:**

> If you guys have any suggestions feel free to comment... If you liked or hated it too, I'll appreciate them. Even if you thought it was 'meeh I don't mind, leave your comment.  
> (This is me begging for feedback in case you haven't noticed. Pretty please?)


End file.
